


Daddy

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-02
Updated: 2011-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-14 08:14:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius Malfoy enjoys a moment with his very, very young son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daddy

**Author's Note:**

> This one's just sick. Nasty, nasty Lucius - the only way I know how to write him.

“Daddy?” came the sweet, clear young voice of the six-year-old boy. “Daddy?”

“What is it, Draco?” Daddy said wearily, not looking up from his paper.

Draco pouted at his Daddy’s brusque tone. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Can I sit on your lap for tea?”

Daddy sighed, folded his paper and set it on the table. He scooted his chair back and patted his lap.

Eagerly, Draco lifted his nightshirt out of his way and crawled onto his father’s lap and wriggled his little bottom against his daddy.

Daddy let out a tiny moan, gripping the paper he had just picked up again rather tightly.

“Daddy, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, darling. Have a cake.”

Eagerly, Draco leant forward, bringing his slippered feet up underneath himself in an effort to get closer to the offered plate of pastries. Daddy’s expensive chairs were too big to go under the tea table, and Draco liked to sit in Mommy’s lap at tea because he couldn’t reach the table otherwise. But Mommy had gone on holiday with her friends, so Daddy let Draco sit in his lap for tea every day this week.

He wiggled his feet and curled his toes excitedly. Daddy almost never let him eat pastries, he said it wasn’t appropriate for a Malfoy to be overweight.

Whatever that meant.

Daddy was wiggling under him just slightly, and in an effort to make him more comfortable, Draco quickly selected a pastry, bit into it, and leant back against Daddy comfortably, settling a steadying hand on Daddy’s leg as he ate the creamy pastry.

The pastry was spread with some kind of sweet white cream, and Draco didn’t notice that a bit of it had smeared his full little bottom lip as he turned his little face and blinked up at his daddy owlishly. “Thank you for the pastry, Daddy, it’s so yummy. Do you know what I learned in school today? We learned about tornadoes, Daddy, an’ then we made our own. Are you okay, Daddy?” Draco noticed that Daddy was shifting ever-so-slightly underneath him, and that his eyes were half-closed.

“Ooh, y-yes, Draco, go on,” Daddy said, breath coming in short pants.

Draco wiggled his bottom against Daddy and moved his hand down against Daddy’s lower tummy-place to lever himself up and more firmly into his father’s lap. He wanted Daddy to be comfortable, ‘cause he didn’t always have time to listen to Draco in the afternoon, and Draco wanted it to last. “Miss Swanson said my tornado was best, Daddy, and she put it right in front of everyone else’s, and Ron Weasley’s was behind everybody else’s. Miss Swanson’s the best teacher ever, Daddy.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Daddy replied, and Draco looked at him again.

“Daddy?” he whispered softly.

Daddy’s eyes were closed and he only raised his eyebrows slightly. Draco thought maybe he was concentrating on something he had read in the newspaper, except that Daddy had dropped the newspaper a minute ago and made no move to pick it up.

“Are you okay, Daddy?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Daddy said, his voice a little breathy. “W-what else did Miss Swanson do?” he asked.

Draco wiggled again, grinning, and Daddy’s hands shot out. One put his pipe on the tea table and the other grasped Draco’s waist gently but firmly, stilling him. The other hand came to rest on the other side of Draco’s waist and started bouncing Draco up and down on Daddy’s knees. Every time, Draco landed in the cradle of Daddy’s lap, right against Daddy’s tummy, and Draco had never felt so safe or loved.

“Tell me what else Miss Swanson did, Draco,” Daddy said, still bouncing Draco against him gently.

“She let me write my spelling lesson on the board because I did it perfectly, Daddy! Goyle was so jealous, an’ you know how Weasleys gets all red when they’re mad, well Ron got that way, Daddy, and it was so funny! He just kept getting redder and redder!” Draco giggled childishly.

Suddenly the bouncing stopped and Draco got all wet! Down where his pee-pee came out! Oh, he must have wet himself! Daddy was going to be so upset with Draco!

Tears welled up, but Daddy said men don’t cry and Draco wasn’t a baby! He blinked them back ferociously. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” he whispered sadly.

Daddy turned him around so Draco could bury his head in Daddy’s strong, broad shoulder and wrap his arms around Daddy’s neck.

Daddy patted him on the back gently and lifted him up. “It’s fine, Draco, accidents happen. We’ll just clean you up and get a new nightshirt . . . there, there, baby . . .”

“I’m not a baby,” Draco protested into his father’s neck. He felt Daddy’s chuckle all the way to his bones.

Daddy settled him carefully on the toilet and smiled down at him as he removed Draco’s nightshirt and pants. He filled the tub and settled Draco into it, taking up the washcloth.

“Daddy, I can wash myself!” Draco insisted.

Daddy chuckled again and ruffled Draco’s hair affectionately. “Not today, my darling. Just this once . . .”


End file.
